Disaster
by typewriter91
Summary: A life changing induction has Lucius wondering whether or not he can be with a woman his tormentor chose for him. Does the loss of his free will mean that his chance at complete happiness no longer exists?


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and have made no money in the creation of this story.**

**AN: Thank you to my marvelous beta for this story, long_live_luna_bellatrix! This story would have been a mess without you!**

* * *

Disaster

The pain was excruciating, like a roaring flame pulsing through his veins while thousands of blades pressed violently into his body from the tips of his toes to the very top of his head. His body curled protectively in at his abdomen while his hands flew to his platinum-blond hair and clutched desperately at his scalp, as if to relieve some of the tension. It felt like his innards were being wrenched from his body. His muscles were convulsing and seizing, and a panicked thought raced through his mind: what if I don't survive this?

He tried to think of something else, something happy to get him through it, yet all logical thought escaped him as his world lit up with red. The insides of his eyelids were red as he clenched them tightly closed. Every now and then, the pain would be taken away for a moment with the lowering of a wand and Lucius would weakly open his eyes to look up at the horrid fools watching his torture. In those moments, they would appear to be red as well. Seconds later, the pain would begin again.

He was sure that the blood which flooded his mouth and oozed down his chin was a matching red.

"Enough, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord hissed at last.

The muscles in Lucius' body were frozen and twitching in reaction to the fifteen minute torture session. His shoulders were level with his ears and his fingers and toes were bent sharply into claws. He doubted he would have been able to move if he even desired to. The only sign of life he could manage was the tilting of his head to look up at the Dark Lord and his deranged servant, Bellatrix, as she walked over to stand by her husband with a spark of crazy happiness in her step. Lucius watched as her hand ran lightly across Rodolphus' chest and then slowly down the arm of his robes. It was sickeningly obvious that the woman used torture as an aphrodisiac in her marriage.

For a moment, Lucius saw an image of his wife in his head. He envisioned her the way she had been just that morning, laying tangled in lavish sheets and comforters with a soft smile. It was the last time he had seen her. He imagined that the image would not have been a poor one to die with. Narcissa was beautiful, there was no denying that. Her unblemished, porcelain skin melted into his, and always made him slow to leave the comfort of their shared bed. If only he could have hidden himself away in her company.

Lucius closed his eyes, trying to recover. His throat felt raw from the guttural, excruciating screams that had escaped from his mouth in the early minutes of the Cruciatus Curse before his vocal cords had given out and could bear no more. He could taste blood on his tongue; could feel it in his nostrils and dripping from his face to the floor beneath him. Bellatrix must have slightly altered the curse to physically hurt him, as the Cruciatus wasn't meant to leave marks internally or externally. When he opened his eyes, preparing to meet the Dark Lord's gaze to get a move on with the "ceremony," he was momentarily transfixed by the sight of his crimson blood staining the paleness of his hair. The contrast was breathtaking.

"Lucius, my friend," the Dark Lord hissed once more, causing the man in question to look up and growl in pain as Rodolphus seized him harshly by the shoulders and pulled him to his knees. "It is time."

* * *

It was a miracle that he had managed to Apparate home without splinching himself. He had left the circle meeting at dusk, but night completely had fallen by the time he had actually arrived home. He had collapsed outside of the Lestrange Estate for a long while before even attempting the feat once he'd finally been dismissed by his Lord.

_His Lord_.

The thought felt bitter, and Lucius knew the pain that had been wracked on his body would not prevent the searing anger he sensed rearing in his mind like a snake.

As a Malfoy, Lucius had known since birth that he was superior to others. He knew that Mudbloods and Half-breeds were not fit to rest his feet on. He had been a loyal sympathizer to the Dark Lord's cause from the moment Abraxas Malfoy, his father, had first decided it was time the pair met. He had been a boy then, fresh out of his fifth year of Hogwarts. He had been impressionable; willing to go along with anything his elders told him. Lucius had felt purposeful in the company of others who shared his feelings of Pureblood supremacy.

Yet, a Malfoy yielded to no one. How had he become someone's pet? How had a proud and noble Malfoy fallen in submission to another? Had he not given the Dark Lord enough already? It had been that same year, just two months following his introduction to the most powerful wizard in the world, that that same powerful wizard had arranged Bellatrix's marriage to Rodolphus and Lucius' marriage to Narcissa.

Lucius felt a growing pit in his stomach as he stumbled toward the immaculate patio doors of Malfoy Manor. Could he spend the rest of his life with a woman who was chosen for him by the man who had stolen his free will? They had been matched solely based on the fact that that their families were both influential and Purebloods. He had given up _everything_ for the Dark Lord. He was suddenly very aware that he may have given up his complete happiness.

Bursting into the manor, Lucius clutched tightly at the nearest table to hold himself up. His remaining energy was waning quickly, and he panicked at the thought of not making it to someone before falling unconscious. It would surely end in his death.

"Dobby!" he bellowed desperately, falling to his knees.

The world was spinning and beginning to blur. He eyed the room that he had somehow managed to get himself to, taking in the furnishings that had most likely never seen use. Lucius couldn't even guess when the last time he had seen the room was. Malfoy Manor was far too big to spend time in each of its pristine quarters. He had probably last ventured into it as a boy. In his delusional tiredness, Lucius vaguely found that thought to be ridiculous.

To his side he heard the pop of Apparation just as he finally lost the battle with exhaustion and let his mind drift into a restless slumber. He dreamt of flawless porcelain skin and soft smiles.

* * *

"Lucius?"

He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to return to sleep, fighting consciousness even as his exhausted body struggled awake at the sound of someone's voice. His whole body felt bruised and battered, though he was becoming alert enough to process the concept of his body looking fine on the outside, despite his internal pain. Nonetheless, Lucius certainly felt closer to the world of the living than he had when he had gotten back to the manor. He had never been so close to dying before. He was too tired to give that much thought.

"Lucius, wake up."

Knowing there was no escaping reality any longer, he let his mind fully process that voice; that lovely, smooth voice that sometimes haunted his dreams and made him crave the coming of morning so he wouldn't have to deal with his mind's inadequate representation of the calming timbre of his wife's whispers. Nothing compared to the reality of her beauty. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel content.

When his eyes finally fluttered open to take in his surroundings, he was relieved to see his bedroom. The sheets and comforters covering him were one and the same to those he had imagined when thinking about Narcissa following his torture. He scrunched his fingers into the sheets, holding onto his world in case he was suddenly ripped from it again.

Then he saw Narcissa.

Her beautiful blue eyes, so warm in comparison to his gray, stared attentively at him. She was sitting in a chair next to the bed with her forearms resting on the mattress just to his side. Her hands were clasped together as if in prayer as she leaned over him. A gentle smile crossed her angelic features as she watched him struggle into awareness.

She let out a soft sigh. "I'm so glad you are all right."

All right.

The words were a bucket of ice to his body, immediately throwing him back to earlier. To the torture. To the Dark Lord. The thought frightened him, the stabbing pain emanating from his left forearm causing him to remember exactly why he had been so near death.

Lucius sat up quickly in bed, throwing the covers off his body and standing. His legs quivered beneath him, but he stubbornly refused to display weakness. Especially not in front of the woman that had been thrust upon him by the man he would be a mere house-elf to for the rest of his life. For the first time in their marriage, Lucius wondered if she was a threat. He wondered whether she was simply a spy for the Dark Lord, sent to keep him in line.

The possibilities were endless. How could he have been so naive?

"Lucius, what is wrong?" Narcissa looked utterly startled by his actions. She sat back in her chair and tilted her head to the side as she regarded him worriedly. "Please, lay down before you hurt yourself."

"Are you a spy for him?" Lucius demanded angrily.

Narcissa's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"

Her ignorant response only served to enrage him further. He yanked up the sleeve covering his left forearm where the Dark Mark awaited in ugly slumber for its master's call. It was the first time Lucius had been able to really look at it. He was almost shocked by the feeling of terrible power that looking at the snake and skull gave him. A shiver of twisted delight ran from the back of his neck to the tip of his toes, and he hated himself more than ever for his enjoyment of the Dark Arts.

"The Dark Lord," he seethed, finally pulling himself from his thoughts. "Are we married so that you can twist me in your web and manipulate me to do his bidding?"

Narcissa did not take her eyes off of the mark on Lucius' arm. She seemed shaken by its appearance. Her face had drained from the little color she normally had. She looked like nothing short of a ghost.

"You were inducted?" she whispered.

Lucius stared at her for a long moment before nodding grimly.

She raised a shaking hand to wipe at her eyes. "Oh, Lucius."

Lucius watched the normally vibrant woman crumble in front of him. She suddenly seemed less like a marble goddess and more like a porcelain doll. He tried to fight the feelings that watching her pain stirred within him. He tried to convince himself that she was no more than a brilliant and beautiful actress. He sneered at her tears and turned away, aiming to look for a set of robes so he could go out for the evening. He needed to get away from her.

His ribs ached in his chest as he bent to open a drawer of an ornate armoire that stood in the corner of their shared chambers. Lucius bit his lip to hold in a groan as his breath came in short pants. He had reached for a pair of silken trousers when he saw a pale hand dart out to get them for him.

He straightened up but did not turn, refusing to meet his wife's gaze.

A hand gently ran up his back as Narcissa pressed herself into his side and held up the trousers for him. He could feel her gentle eyes upon him and hated the way he instantly thought getting dressed was the exact opposite of what he really desired. She had always had that effect on him, right from the moment that they had met.

"Lucius," she whispered. "Please, look at me."

Begrudgingly, he complied. Their eyes bore into each other, one pair icy and distant while the other pair was soft and forgiving.

"I am in love with you."

She had never said that to him before. They had been married for months and had shared a bed from the time of their engagement. Both had been experienced sexually when they had met and their desire for each other had proved to be quite passionately mutual. Nevertheless, despite many nights of intimacy and private conversation, they had maintained a neutral position towards each other for the entirety of their relationship. The lingering looks they sometimes shared were the only hint to something more.

Lucius blanched, not knowing what to say.

Narcissa's eyes warmed at his expression. "I understand if you are not at the same stage as I am, but I need you to know what is in my heart. This marriage may not have been romantic in its roots, but I am with you today out of love. I am not with you because the Dark Lord wishes it. Our marriage would not have the passion that we feel if I felt obligated to be with you. After all, we were forced to marry one another; we were not forced to feel for one another. Our lives may have been dictated for us, yet is there any reason why we cannot see the beauty in this disaster?"

Lucius had turned to fully face his wife, watching the hypnotic movement of her lips as she spoke of love and true feelings. He felt weak at the pleasurable shivers running through him. He felt like he was not just a servant of the Dark Lord now, but also a slave to this breathtaking woman. He knew there was nothing he would not do for their family.

"I wish we could be together without your having to bow down to the Dark Lord," Narcissa murmured, dropping the trousers she had pulled out for him on the armoire. She reached a hand up to gently cup his cheek in her palm. "No good can come from this."

"Mudbloods deserve to be put in their place," Lucius said automatically.

Narcissa smiled sadly. "I wish it was not at the expense of your freedom."

Lucius scanned her features, memorizing them as he felt all of his anger and frustration melt away. The morning torture now felt a million years in his past, the pain of his body slipping from his mind. Narcissa had always had that effect on him. Nothing else seemed pertinent when she was with him.

It was with that thought that he realized something: if being enslaved to the Dark Lord for a cause that he did, in fact, believe in meant he could keep his wife safe, then he would fight for it regardless of the torture he had to endure.

Lucius drew Narcissa gently up and into his arms, placing a gentle palm on the back of her neck to guide her lips to his.

"I love you."

The words flowed from him on a husky whisper as they walked backwards to their bed. Narcissa paused only for a moment in his arms as the phrase washed over her with delight. They fell in a tangle on the bed, divesting each other of their clothing. Narcissa gently ran the tips of her fingers over the Dark Mark on his arm, creating a vibrating moan in his chest. It was as Lucius was revealing the beautiful, translucent skin of his wife's chest that he remembered her earlier words.

She was a profoundly beautiful disaster.

* * *

**AN: There you have it! I wanted to try to write about someone far from my comfort level, because I tend to stick to just Hermione with another male character. Let me know what you thought of it! I wanted to write something about the complexity of Lucius Malfoy by touching on his love of his family and the Dark Arts. I tried to really capture his struggles. **

**Lastly, if you haven't already, please go to my profile and vote for the pairing that I write next! :) If you don't like any of the options I have on the poll already, PM me the pairing you like. So far I've had a request for Hermione/Draco that wasn't on the poll. Hermione/George is winning as of now! Which is fun since I love writing that pairing (hence A Wonderful Love). Thank you for reading! **


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